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Finding Myself

by Susan Elizabeth Hall

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My earliest memories of my feminine side are lost in the mists of time. But in the Autumn of my life, I can recall struggling with it from the age of seven, when a curious little boy, an only child, asked his mother what it felt like to wear nylons. Her innocent and, for the late 1940s, open answer was, "Would you like to try some on and find out?" "Well, OK." I said, and she went to her bedroom and brought out a pair for me to try on in my own room. In helping me satisfy my curiosity, her innocent gesture led to a very profound revelation. However, the outcome of that revelation was borne all alone for decades.

Mine was what I would call a typical childhood, albeit a shy one. I was never athletically inclined, nor was I interested in playing with dolls. Life just went on, and life was nice. My parents were loving, and were firm, but fair. There was no child abuse. Certainly there was no coercion to wear feminine things as punishment. That all happened through the actions of yours truly.

Soon, I was trying on other things when my folks went to the store. Eventually, I worked up the courage to buy certain items of my own. In my own way, I witnessed the transition from full-fashioned seamed stockings to seamless pantyhose in the feminine realm, something that no other boy in the world, or so I thought, ever had noticed or would ever notice. Of course, every transgendered individual growing up echoes these words, with slight variations.

Through high school and undergraduate college, into my early 20s, I lived at home. I still furtively tried my mother's things, but also had more of my own. Today, under the attic flooring of that old house, there are probably still decaying remnants of nylon fibers, including classic seamed nylons, with black heels and toes. I took a fancy to leotards and tights, as they came on the market. I even managed to acquire a wig and began early explorations with makeup, when my parents were away on a short holiday and I stayed home. My first stint at Graduate School was my first time away from home. I shared a dormitory room with two other fellows and was pretty much shut out of any opportunities for feminine exploration. Still, there always was something hidden away. In the college library, I began to learn that there were others like me for the first time.

In a used bookstore, I picked up a booklet about French female impersonators and marveled at the amazing transformations. There was the legendary Coccinelle, looking for all the world like a born woman. There was a picture of her in the out-of-doors, adding her grace to a beautiful sunlit fountain in the town plaza of a nameless French village. I fantasized at looking so feminine. Further, there was a series of photos of a fantastic transformation to the woman, Renée. I imagined myself undergoing that same transformation, wondering how it would feel. I kept that book, but somehow lost track of it over the years. Had I hung onto it, it would be a priceless classic today. Yet, thirty years later, I saw those wonderful photos once again, right here in Transgender Forum.

After getting my Masters, I came home and found the girl of my dreams. I chased her until she caught me. When we got married, I just assumed that these strange urges would just go away. Girl, was the joke on me! If anything, the urges intensified. One year into the marriage, an opportunity to return to Graduate school and obtain a Ph.D. came along, and my wife and I embarked on this quest together. However, while she was working and my classes were over, I would often come back to our apartment in the afternoon to dress. I had secretly collected a complete outfit once again and had graduated to full dress and full makeup. Finally I realized the truth; it would not go away, and I tried to tell my wife in our third year of marriage. With her mild encouragement, I even dressed for her one evening, but her reaction was one of discomfort, to put it mildly. So I continued to dress, out of sight, out of mind. After school, and beyond through all these years, it never went away, but I never brought the subject up. She thought that my urges had faded away. It would come and go, but the vestiges of Susan were always there.

Through the 1970's, we had a family and my career progressed. Again, I always had a rudimentary wardrobe, furtively hidden in one of my stereo speaker cabinets. I don't think there was any speaker cabinet that was disassembled and reassembled so often. But when my wife was out shopping, I would get my things out, usually a just a bra, slip, panties and hose, and perhaps a scarf to cover my head (I felt, and feel, very uncomfortable without a wig or facsimile.). I would relax, if only for a few minutes.

In 1980, I lost my father, and, in 1983, my mother. I leave it to the psychologists to determine if this was a trigger. At any rate, there soon began a period of intense crossdressing that would not end to this day . . . my own midlife crisis, I guess. I gathered a compact, but complete ensemble to allow me to dress and makeup completely. On business trips, in the motel, I would explore my feminine side in earnest, but never in contact with another human being. Every trip included such activities. I had a cheap wig, from K-Mart, that I didn't know how to maintain and it took on the appearance of road kill.

In my inexorable advance down the road to femininity, I began to venture out of the motel room, and take drives after dark. Once, my rental car's battery died, and I had to walk a mile, in heels, back to the motel, change, and call the Auto Club. On the way back, a local policeman stopped and asked if I was OK. In the evening shadows, my identity was hidden, though I was very concerned about my voice. I assured him I was fine and, to my great relief, he wished me a pleasant evening and drove on. Still, those furtive outings were generally harmless. The most important thing was that I was out-of-doors, something that was particularly special at that stage. Still, each success led to a need for more.

Finally, in May of 1994, dressed as well as I knew how, but not well enough, I took a first tentative exploration into a mall, among others. Of course, I picked the worst time to go into a mall, a Saturday afternoon. There I was spotted by a group of teenage boys, who instantly read me and followed me. They hooted, laughed and taunted me as I headed for the nearest exit. Somehow, I kept my composure and walked on, looking straight ahead to avoid eye contact. I recall the contempt in one youth's voice, as he referred to me as "sir, or whatever the Hell you are." Fortunately, there was no physical damage, just a saddened heart. After I got to my car, I noticed a security guard looking my way. He called out, "Are you all right?" Thankful for this unexpected concern, I nodded "yes" but was sick in my heart. At that point, I knew I needed help.

Through those years, I had done a lot of praying . . . to get rid of whatever was wrong with me. There was no tangible answer to that particular line of prayer, at least, as far as I knew. When I returned from my fiasco at the mall, I sat down and prayed once more. Without really thinking about it, I changed the prayer somewhat. Instead of praying to get rid of my condition, I asked for help in coping with it. Within days, that one was answered.

On returning to work after my business trip, an announcement came across my desk that we were to have access to the Internet. Within an hour after connecting, I was lurking in the transgendered newsgroups. In the newsgroup FAQs, I found there was a local support group. Quickly, I made a call to their hotline, where an answering machine awaited me, ...then chickened out and hung up. This process was repeated time and time again. Still, it was only a matter of time. Finally, I did leave that message, and that very afternoon, I was face-to-face at a local coffee shop with another man who was also a crossdresser ...and I knew it, for the very first time.

Events then led me to attend the 1994 Be-All in Pittsburgh. It was something that I felt I had to do. I feel that Divine intervention played a role once more, as it was scheduled immediately before a job-related conference, just two hours away, that I regularly attended. The coincidence was incredible. So on June 10, 1994, in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, Susan Elizabeth was born at last. Gemini, the Twins; what else. The experience was a miracle.

At last I had found, not only that I was not alone, but also that I was OK. I didn't know where my life was heading, but I knew that this new path held unbelievable promise. The euphoria of that weekend continued through the week, at my business conference. It was hard to concentrate on matters at hand.

When I returned home, however, that euphoria led me to make one of the greatest mistakes of my life. Knowing of the strong marriage that I had been blessed with, I felt that my wife had to know of this. There should be no more secrets. I expected some anxiety. Still, I felt that what we had built over the years since I clumsily tried to tell her early on would carry the day. That was a serious misjudgment on my part.

Her reaction was severe and angry. My euphoria turned to despair. I feared I would lose her. Still, today we are together. The love and strong marriage weathered the storm, and we are together in all things...except this. I would dearly love to have her come to understand what it is really about, but she is content to ignore it, like the proverbial ostrich with head in the sand. At the same time, her angry reaction instilled a fear within me of bringing the subject up. One trait reinforces the other. It's the classic "Don't ask; don't tell." Still, there is a constructive conversation about once a year and I never give up hope that she will come to understand. I may be a little old lady in tennis shoes by then, but I have never given up hoping, and praying.

On the other side of the coin, there is Susan. Having learned that life is far too short, I had to move on, despite the home problem. With help and counseling from so many giving friends and a dedicated gender counselor, I have grown beyond anything I could have dreamed of. I have had one wonderful ride and have gained a renewed love of life. I have made friends with people in and out of the TG community. What wonderful stories to tell! Of course, the sad part is that I cannot share these wonderful experiences with my partner and soul mate. And the gap of understanding widens.

Early on, I thought about what I could do with this gift. Despite some limitations in appearance, I felt that I just might be able to get out in the real world and help others understand, as well as help others like me. In time and with practice, I did just that. What began as a tentative foray into a restaurant has led to times where I have lived as a woman for days at a time. Relating all of the experiences since 1994 would fill a book; indeed my journal has grown by leaps and bounds. I obviously cannot put them all in this article. Surely, we all feel that way. Still, there are some thoughts and impressions that I would like to leave here, if only to encourage others who are still in the darkness.

  • A bright smile and gentle demeanor can perform miracles in winning skeptical hearts.
  • There are more open minds and hearts out there than you ever could believe. And many know exactly where you're coming from. One woman once told me to "keep doing what you're doing. People need to know what you're really about."
  • The "real world" friendships that you make can be as sincere and rewarding as those you make within the transgender community. In either case, a couple of extra layers of emotional depth come into play.
  • Women are much more accepting than men are.
  • Many of the friendships that you make with women are truly on a woman-to-woman basis without the male baggage. That was an unexpected miracle for me. I have literally been welcomed into the female gender by many.
  • Be prepared to cry tears of happiness. Be prepared to hug and be hugged.
  • The first time at a restaurant or store can be awkward, but the second time starts to win friends. They obviously remember you, but they also realize you're very serious about what you're doing.
  • We all have a responsibility to make a good impression in any business place. That is how transgender-friendly businesses are created.
  • Any goodwill created will inevitably benefit those to come. It's yet another way to give something back to the community.
  • Don't be offended if someone calls you "sir." It's so easy for them to do. As you gain confidence, gently correct them and you'll find you have made another friend.
  • Use common sense on the restroom issue. Avoid the more public facilities, but for Heaven's sakes, don't hold it and hurt yourself.
  • It saddens my heart to see any dissension within the community itself. We have much too much in common. Rhetorically speaking, it often seems that female brain chemistry will not neutralize a male ego :) .
  • A misguided few will inevitably harass you, but it's far rarer than you might believe. Maintain your dignity and self-confidence, avoid eye contact, and the Good Lord will see you through it.
  • It's their problem, not yours.
  • There will be others who will be more discreet, but who may notice and discuss you when they think you're not looking. You will likely feel some anxiety, but it goes with the territory.
  • It's their problem, not yours.
  • Think carefully about the friends in your life. Some will accept you. There is nothing more poignant than having dinner en femme with a high school chum and his wife, sharing such an important part of you at last. Indeed, they may well be honored that you would share it.
  • There is nothing more wonderful than being en femme out of doors. The freedom of being who you really are, coupled with the open skies and fresh air is miraculous. You too can walk in the soft grass in your stocking feet.
  • Colors, textures and sounds become more vivid as your feminine mindset envelops you. Be prepared to compose spectacular photographs.
  • As you grow in your femininity, bring your newfound perspective into your male life. The whole person deserves to benefit.
  • If you share the news of your gender gift with your loved ones, don't let your heart get in front of your head. Think it through! Seek advice.
  • One size fits all doesn't.
  • Thank God that you are transgendered. What a miraculous window on the world! You have been given the opportunity to experience life like few people ever do.

So, since that date in June, I have basked in the shining glow of femme discovery after spending nearly fifty years hiding deep in the womb of darkness, filled with guilt and shame. Although my life has been turned upside-down and there are still several thresholds to cross before this story plays itself out, there are no regrets. The pluses have far outweighed the minuses and my life, and my faith, have been immeasurably enhanced. The woman within is no longer totally suppressed, though her spirit remains hushed in many quarters. I do realize that, in comfortably living "full-time" for short periods of opportunity, I am more than a casual crossdresser. I may have a responsibility to myself, but I also have a responsibility not to shatter the lives of those I love. I pray that I can live with that, and that living the dream will continue.

In closing, I would like to refer to the words of a great American heroine, a role model for all of us. Amelia Earhart, reflecting on her becoming the first woman to fly solo across the Atlantic, said:

"My particular inner desire to fly the Atlantic alone was nothing new with me. I had flown Atlantics before. Everyone has [her] own Atlantics to fly. Whatever you want very much to do, against the opposition of tradition, neighborhood opinion and so-called 'common sense' ---- that is an Atlantic . . . "

"I flew the Atlantic because I wanted to . . . To want in one's heart to do a thing, for its own sake; to enjoy doing it; to concentrate all one's energies upon it ---- that is not only the surest guarantee of success. It is also being true to oneself."

All of us, whether fully in the world, deeply cloistered or somewhere in between, can take heart from that great woman's eloquent words. Being true to oneself, that is our personal "Atlantic."

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